


Follow Me

by heathenwhelp



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Feels, Michael/Trevor - Freeform, Trevor/Michael - Freeform, Trikey - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:25:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2276529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heathenwhelp/pseuds/heathenwhelp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There are some people that come in pairs. One is not meant to be without the other, and if the world worked a little better, they wouldn’t be. They’d die on the same day, at the same time, so they’d never have to." Many years after the events of GTA V, Jimmy experiences the loss of his father, but there is nobody that feels it more keenly than Trevor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrevorPhilipsismySpiritAnimal (lazysatyr)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazysatyr/gifts).



There are some people that come in pairs. One is not meant to be without the other, and if the world worked a little better, they wouldn’t be. They’d die on the same day, at the same time, so they’d never have to.

I realized my Dad and Trevor were like that the day of my Dad’s funeral. Mom and even Tracey didn’t want him there, Mom being more vocal about it, Tracey just giving me that worried look across the kitchen. They were all pretty convinced he was going to cause trouble, and I’ll be honest, so was I. I was expecting tears, screaming, shouting... damn, I was scared the old man was going to pitch himself out of his wheelchair and try to follow Dad down that hole. I know I felt like it. It had been so god damn sudden. He was old, we all knew he was old; we never let him forget it. But one day he was fine, and the next day he was cold.

There were a lot of things we didn’t sort out, my Dad and me. But none of that really matters when you’re looking at someone’s coffin.

Trevor just sat there. He let us wheel him around where he needed to go, or at least, I did. I spent most of my time with a full view of his bald head the whole day. It gave me a good distraction. I could count the liver spots when everyone started crying and my own eyes started burning. There were times when I willed him to do something, say something, but all he did was sit and stare. Wouldn’t even take the champagne put in front of him at the wake. Not a single joke cracked about the waitresses. Not even that tired pull-my-finger joke for Tracey’s kids. For once in his life, the cantankerous old fucker was silent. 

And I hated it, because as much as I should have tried to talk to him past “do you want a sandwich”, there wasn’t a damn thing I could say to him. Kids are supposed to have to say goodbye to their parents some day. But whatever it was that Trevor was carrying for my Dad- and there sure was something there, I saw it even if Dad never did- it had gone with him when he died and taken everything out of Trevor with it.

It didn’t surprise me too much, I guess, when I got the call from the hospital. Trevor had keeled over outside a bar somewhere, trying to get in. God only knew how he got out the front door, but I guessed it was because he’d offended yet another one of the care nurses I had to keep hiring to wipe his ass and feed him. He’d not aged gracefully. I know it’s bad, but I laughed down the phone when I was told, thinking about how angry he must have been to be so near yet so far before he was carted away in an ambulance. I near-begged my family to go with me to the hospital but everyone was “busy” all of a sudden. No answer from Franklin. He took Dad’s death a little hard, I think, so I didn’t keep calling. No reason to worry him when the old fuck was probably just faking it, got tired, and had hoped for a free ride home.

Of course, I felt like I’d been punched in the gut when I actually got there and the nurse told me what was really going on. 

“Do not resuscitate?” 

“It means that-“

“I know what it means.” I snapped at her. Probably shouldn’t have done. She was a looker, and my biological body clock is well past its due, so to speak. Two marriages and no kids, my Mom’s livid. As I followed my would-be third wife’s shapely ass to that poky little room, I tried to tell myself that it was all going to be fine, as you do in this kind of situation. But all I could think about was the look on Trevor’s face at the funeral, and the sick feeling in my gut just wouldn’t leave.

“He’s had a lot of morphine, so he might not know you. At this point, we’re just trying to keep him comfortable.” The nurse whispered as she opened the door. I muttered thanks to her and went inside, taking a breath to steady myself as I saw him. Hooked up to all those machines, he looked like something out of a sci-fi movie, but his bony arms made him look skeletal. I did my duty and sat down beside him, praying that he wasn’t going to wake up. But of course, he did. It can’t ever be easy for me.  
His eyes fluttered open, unfocussed and rheumy, but set themselves on my face with that intense glare that he always had. Lips quirking into a smile, he extended one shaking hand and gripped my wrist.

“Mikey.”

A hundred thoughts went through my head, the first one being utter insult at being mistaken for my old man, even by some old bastard with half his marbles missing. But something, I don’t know what, made me place my other hand on his. His skin was like paper.

“Hey, T.” I replied softly. He rested his head back on the pillow, turning his eyes up to the ceiling.

“How’d we get so old, Mikey?” He murmured. “How’d we get so fucking old?” His eyelids fluttered shut, and he breathed in deep. “It hurts.”

“I know, T. It’s alright. Just rest, you’ll be okay.” I tried, but a harsh chuckle escaped him.

“You’re a fuckin’ liar. You always have been.” The chuckle was replaced by a cough, which was followed by a whisper. “Hold me.” It was half a demand, half a plea.  
I hesitated, but only for a moment. Leaning forward and wrapping my arms around his skinny frame, I held him gently. I felt him try to reciprocate but his limbs were too weak, so he just lay there and let me. After a while, though I thought it impossible, I felt him slump backwards even more, as though he’d been fighting the weakness all this time. “You’re not as good a liar as your Dad, Jimmy.” His voice held that last little bit of mirth before the heart monitor panicked. I let him go, shouted his name, yelled for a nurse, but by the time the door burst open, it had flatlined.

And he was gone. I knew he was gone before I even turned to look at him, so I decided I didn’t need to. I moved away and let them do their job. I was done with dead bodies. I was done with empty shells.

Somehow, I found myself outside and sat outside the hospital, on the hard floor and staring up at the sky as the sun beat down on my face. All around me people were bustling, horns were sounding on the road, even the fucking birds were singing, as though nothing had happened, as though there was no great knowledge laying in my heart and weighing me down. Maybe I was the last person alive that knew it, maybe I was the only person other than him that ever knew it. But I knew then; Trevor Philips had been in love with my father, Michael Townley. And whatever either of them might have done, nobody in the world deserve each other more than those two. 

Wherever they are now.


End file.
